All You Never Say
by Smoakin-dontburnyouself
Summary: AU Olicity 1800's **A Determined wife: After a less than ideal wedding night, Lady Felicity Smoak is willing to do whatever it takes to salvage her new marriage, anything to win back her husband's affection... An Unworthy Husband: Experiencing a violent past, Oliver's world is complicated when he marries above him, his love drowned by guilt, he will do anything to protect her
1. Cloaks and Pastries

**Disclaimer : Characters belong to DC Comics and the CW! Used Only for your utmost enjoyment !**

_Starling City 1814_

The moonless backstreet held an eerie silence as Lady Felicity Smoak discerned a ghostly breeze stir her golden tresses around the black disguise that concealed her delicate features. She shivered when the persistent breeze reminded her of her attire, her light black cloak had perhaps not been the wisest choice considering the fickle climate of Starling City in the spring, but the hasty nature of her scheme hadn't allowed her time to assemble a suitable garment. She let out an apprehensive chuckle, would she, even if allowed further deliberation, have found a befitting ensemble?

was there a code of dress when following your husband to a dubious warehouse on the outskirts of town? she thought it very unlikely, and supposing that there was, she surely would have never encountered it in any of her worn-out philosophy books.

In the distance, the heavy footfalls of horses pulling carriages through the airy night added to the urgency of her pursuit. Felicity surveyed the long dark stretch before her, she reached the decaying building and looked around, searching for any indication of what was concealed within the deteriorated building. Tentatively, she pressed her ear to the cool wood, straining to perceive anything that could bespeak of her husbands whereabouts, the grunts and feral noises she heard from within the abandoned edifice made her worry about Oliver's wellbeing... surely he was alright, the thought of her husband being involved in threatening circumstances hastened her quest to sneak in and retrieve Lord Oliver Queen.

Earlier that evening, from an edgewise balcony Felicity watched as Oliver entered the rowdy ball, her deep red lips turning into a deep frown watching him dance with several "Ladies" (and by ladies she was referring to flagrant courtesans) who seemed to find no shame in rubbing against her husband like desperate animals. The pang of jealousy had only sharpened when she realized he was not particularly speeding to stop them. More than once she looked down to find the pastry she had intended to eat smashed in her small hand watching her husband and whichever harlot get unabashedly close. She only felt herself breathe when he excused himself from the ballroom, making his way to one of the adjacent rooms, she parted ways with her plate of mutilated pastries intending to seek him out.

It would not prove difficult to find Oliver, he was impossible to miss. His powerful build, which seemed more of a warrior than of a lord, was distinct amongst privileged, indisposed men. His sandy brown hair framed a ruggedly handsome face that never failed to leave her breathless, although slightly more rugged than handsome, she found his pointed nose and strong jaw utterly remarkable. And his eyes, impossibly bewitching orbs of striking azure, perpetually overcast with a sentiment she could never wholly decipher, a beautiful storm of stunning blue, pierced through you as if looking into your spirit.

She was sure that she would recognize her husband under any circumstances. His presence brought her to life, her cheeks permanently rosy when he spared her a glance, her heart beating unnaturally fast whenever he addressed her. He awakened parts of her she never imagined even existed, let alone could feel so much.

Felicity made an effort to quiet her stomach as it resounded in the most unladylike fashion, perhaps she should have consumed the food instead of mangling it. But there was no time for remorse, she needed to put her plan into action.

Felicity proceeded to survey the tall building when a back door caught her attention, she brought her hand to the handle and sighed in audible relief to find it open, what she found inside made her cheeks burn in embarrassment

_Men_, an abundance of men, _sweaty, unrobed,_ _shirtless_ men.

She thought back to the time she had seen Oliver in such attire, or lack of it.

it was on their wedding night, oh what a catastrophe that night had been. Oliver, unfailingly chivalrous, spent the night repeatedly apologizing for any discomfort she was too feel when fulfilling her wifely duties. If it hadn't been for her wariness, and if she was honest, outright terror, they might be on better terms. She pondered the idea of her husbands detachment... could it be that her unwillingness had prompted Oliver to evade her presence?

He had remained polite, inordinately so. Whenever they encountered each other at balls or lunches ( which he strategically planned would not happen often) , they might as well be strangers. It was a drastic and unwelcome change from their romantic whirlwind courtship, he had shown her affection then. Although innocently chaste, an occasional stolen kiss on the cheek or a swift press of lips on the back of her hand, his longing looks had caused her believe he cared for her. Felicity felt a singe tear roll down her cheek at the thought of her predicament, but she was no helpless lady, she was determined to regain her husbands affection, or at the very least, obtain some answers as to where he runs off to every night.

**If you have made it this far, I very much appreciate the time you took to read ! I really hope you enjoyed the story, more chapters to come :)**


	2. Verdant St

**Thank you for coming back to read chapter 2! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Arrow characters all belong to DC comics and the CW ! **

* * *

The inside of the warehouse was unnervingly dark

Felicity squinted in the gloom at its inhabitants, scant moonlight coming from a shattered old window yielded Felicity with a meager view of the unclad men, who, she now realized, were perplexingly indistinguishable in their proportions.

The men she was surveying were unnaturally hard-bodied, unlike anything she had ever seen,

and her husband was very powerfully built, it had been one of the things that had charmed her, standing next to him, her gaze level with his sturdy chest, feeling so utterly feminine in contrast to his strong, brawny physique...

She had always admired this about him, although she knew Oliver to be doubtful, undoubtedly by means of the hearsay circulating through polite society concerning the mysterious new Lord of the Queen estate, which, from what she haphazardly overheard at nearly every event she attended, were cruel and uninformed defamations of his character.

Felicity felt her blood boil as she recalled an especially ill-mannered remark,

"Too bad Lady Queen is unescorted to such events as these, no doubt the consequences of wedding such a low-born, un-becoming man, you know his fortune is from trade?, _trade!"_

the woman's tone, so full of disdain and arrogance, had enraged her the most, _How dare_ _she think she's worth more than Oliver on account of such a trivial matter like birth? _

Felicity had promptly removed herself as far away possible from the insufferable pair of second rate "marquesses" who brazenly discussed her husband as if they knew anything about him!

Oh how she had itched to give them a piece of her mind, but first and foremost she was a lady. She knew Oliver did not need her savage outbursts added to his concerns, she embarrassed herself sufficiently with her unladylike digressions, which she found she could not retain from spilling out of her at the most unfortunate moments.

Felicity let out a wobbly breath,_ That is likely why he steers clear of you_

Yesterday, in one of her secretive escapades to her husband's chambers she had discovered a note protruding from the pocket of his coat, the simple black bold ink had caught her attention as she roamed around his space needing to feel close to him, to smell the deliciously musky scent that was so uniquely Oliver , gnawing at her bottom lip she had debated leaving the note un-read knowing it was a full invasion of her husbands privacy. Nevertheless, curiosity won out as it compelled her to delicately extract the paper from the safekeeping of his black town coat, inside she found an address written in a neat manuscript

_**46710 Verdant St.  
**__**Starling City **_

Her plan had been vague, partially driven by curiosity and intent to persuade Oliver to come home, to give her a chance, to give _them_ a chance. Except she had risked everything- her dignity, her reputation- venturing out after nightfall, for what would a proper lady be doing out this late unaccompanied ?

It took a low menacing voice to pull Felicity from her reverie

"Now, Do we have an understanding here ?"

"Ye-yes Mr. Wilson"

The seemingly foreign, accented voice reminded her of her current position, still crouched by the dark entranceway Felicity knew, if she didn't find an adequate place to conceal herself, she would soon be found out. She ran her palms over her torso under her cloak, she felt her petticoats swish at the small gesture, her stays also greatly limited her movement...they would have to go. After a quiet frenzied struggle she managed to extract herself from the confinements of her undergarments, surely whichever enormous man found her them would be thoroughly perplexed.

Now one task remained... find a place to camouflage

Her unrelenting curiosity prevailing , she searched for a place that would allow her to observe the exchange while keeping her hidden from the man who she now saw from a better angle seated at a desk lit by several candles sporting an eyepatch, looking like danger itself. The younger man settled opposite him undoubtedly agreed with her assessment, with at least thirty terrifyingly brawny men mock fighting in the background of their congregation, he looked to be in pure dismay.

Eyes darting from side to side, by now adjusted to the dimness of her surroundings, she spotted a space between a wall and a staircase that was big enough to conceal even several people... _Yes!_ her hand clenched up over her head in a gesture of triumph... yet another of her indelicate habits.

Particularly loud grunts, as the abnormal men continued to train provided the perfect cover

_Tis' now or never_

Back pressed against the wall, her cloak making the faintest noise as it brushed the brick, she made her way towards her salvation. The path grew longer and longer with every careful step she took, fully expecting a deep accent to roar in outrage at her intrusion of what seemed to be an underhanded business deal.

_but where do the brawny men fit into this man's business?_ she knew her curiosity on this matter to be most indecent, but she found mysteries intolerable and these men were frighteningly dissimilar to anyone she had ever encountered, they looked... murderous.

She continued on with blind resolve, by the time she reached the staircase her heart was beating so rapidly she was sure it would beat right out of her chest, nervous sweat lined every inch of exposed skin, her cheeks flushed with jittery trepidation.

At that moment she bumped into a solid warm object

She froze completely, her breath catching in her throat

Her first instinct was to scream, before she could breathe in enough air to let out a horrified shriek, a large hand clamped over her mouth while the other secured her waist in an effort to muffle any sound. Completely engulfed by the strangers confining embrace, She quickly realized, panic setting in deep in her gut,

she was not alone

"Do not move or we will likely be discovered"

a familiar voice breathed the words into her ear in a ghostly whisper

"do you understand?"

That voice, she would recognize that deep masculine voice anywhere

_Oliver._

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading ! I hope you enjoyed chapter 2! let me know what you all think!**

**_-Martha-_**


	3. Marquess

**Hi Guys! so I don't know why I thought I would get this out sooner, but I really wanted to! especially for all the very nice people that have left encouraging comments! thank you all... enjoy chapter 3!**

**Disclaimer****: don't own arrow !**

* * *

_Oliver_

She felt a wave of relief followed by a heaving surge of dread at the deduction that it was her husband's sturdy hands gripping her waist.

Slowly, she turned her head to look into a face she did not at first recognize as her husband's.  
Momentarily she thought she was mistaken. Could it be a stranger who's voice bared a complete resemblance to Oliver's? The panic she had felt before quickly made its way back into the pit of her stomach, looking into the dark hooded face her concentration clouded over with sheer horror.

Her reassurance came only after a slight movement disturbed the air around them, his delightfully unique musky scent filling the air, completely overwhelming her senses. The dark hood that had cast a harsh gloom upon his features, too, shifted at the slight movement revealing his profile. Shadows obscured the details of his face, but she could make out the sharp set of his jaw and the pointed edge of his nose. And his eyes, orbs of abysmal blue, currently smeared by a dark green paint that only worked to intensify his blazing gaze, to her, were unmistakable.

She held her breath, Without doubts that it was indeed her husband, she waited for his reaction. What would he think of encountering his wife at such a time, in such a fashion?

"Do you understand?" he repeated as quietly as the last

numb with shock, she nodded

_Good God! he does not recognize me!_

He released the tight grip on her waist. With a steady hand, she reached to her face. She felt the smooth rounded edges of her disguise still in place. Likely the pigments,too, retained their concealing power. Earlier that evening she'd swirled her brush into the tiny copper pots with a permissive hand to complete the disguise. She'd felt a rush of excitement peering into the looking glass at the bold, alluring woman who peered back in amazed astonishment.

No one would recognize the awkwardly demure Lady Felicity with brazenly red lips, smokey eyelids, and darkened lashes. No one would look at the enigmatic woman in the low cut gown cloaked in black and see the Marchioness of the Queen Estate...

Apparently not even the Marquess himself.

* * *

Oliver slowly released the luscious baggage in front of him. He forced himself to count to ten to cool the fire that shot through his blood, To forget the softness of the un-corseted skin beneath his palm but a moment ago.

Unbelievable.

He had thought his nights of carless passions behind him, but now, for the second time since his return to Starling City, he found himself reduced to a cluster of raging desires.

The first time had been on his wedding night, his loins had been set aflame at the sight of his beautifully chaste wife - who, as it turned out, wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. Now, his frustrated passions were channeled towards a mysterious woman who pummeled right into his discreet hideout, completely diverting his attention from the mission at hand. He felt a surge of aggravation towards the painstakingly enticing woman- who, dressed like that, probably had little to do with anything chaste.

Affliction twisted in his chest, not for the first time since his reappearance. He had always told himself that the horrors he had seen- had done, did not necessitate acting like a savage. Not that a blue-blooded breeding was any guarantee of decorous conduct, Oliver's father was proof that power could mar any mans judgement into pure delusion.

For most of his life, he had lived a life of few concerns, full of debaucheries and irresponsibility. In a sick twist of fate he was cast into the deepest pothole of hell imaginable. For five miserable years he'd fought to survive on that godforsaken island, only returning to find his family gone, nothing left of the great power the Queen family had once held. His father's confession to have corrupted the city had turned his world on its end, it still hadn't rightened itself.

His marriage only threw him further off balance.

_She is too good for me, I should of never married her. _

Yet as soon as he had laid eyes on her, he'd been held in her thrall. He first spotted her five months ago, at a ball as tedious as all the rest. Having made his binding appearance, he had been intent on a quick escape when he noticed her. How could he have not? Beautifully bright, she stood out in a vivid blue gown, once he saw her he found himself unable to look away. He watched her more than a gentleman should have, talking animatedly with a group of elders who seemed to be horrified by her rambling, the blush on her cheeks told him she had probably misspoke and was attempting to revoke any offense. He found himself grinning, he might have walked away shaking his head in humor at the radiant blonde, yes he might have, had she not turned her head at that very moment. His heart had quickened, when her gaze collided with his. Her eyes, the color of the brightest of skies had held an expression of sadness at her mothers disappointment in her lack of grace, an expression that for some unthinkable reason tugged at his own heart.

He had waited for her expression to change, the minuscule shift in features whenever he was recognized as the outcast. The wrinkiling of the nose in disgust, the raise of the eyebrow that spoke volumes

_Savage, castaway, unworthy merchant_

To his surprise, that change had never come. Felicity's gaze had remained opened, a shy smile curving on her neatly painted lips, and when her eyes did finally cast down, it had been in a ladylike manner instead of haughty dismissal. For the first time in his life, Oliver had been stricken by a longing so great it dwarfed any reason. Despite knowing better, he sought an introduction and courted her, taking her on chaperoned walks and making polite conversation with her family over tea, he sought to convince himself more than anyone that he was deserving of such fine a lady.

After every proper encounter, he would return to his chambers aching to kiss her to touch her, in every was that was _not_ proper. He knew he had no right to kiss her, to touch his wife, he would only dim her light with his darkness. Felicity could never know how he ached for her... Worse than that, she could never know that during the night, instead of coming home , he sought to right the wrongs done by his family as the starling city vigilante, she would be horrified.

_she can never know _


	4. Tea and Biscuits

**HI, It has been quite a while since a new chapter! for everyone who expressed an interest and left awesome comments for this story, I apologize ! I hope you are still with me! This chapter is an important one for the story... I really hope you enjoy it. As a lot of people remarked, this story is very different and I hope I captured some of the characters traits within this AU !**

**Thanks for reading ! ******Don't own Arrow****

* * *

From the confines of their darkened refuge, scant moonlight lit up the face of his masked accomplice.

The temptress was, he noticed, of a similar frame as Felicity. Delicately lean with a sinfully generous backside that begged to be touched.

The air around her held a hum of delicacy that he thought strange for a woman of her profession.

A furrowed eyebrow shot up in considering thought,

Strange was every aspect of this situation, for what would a courtesan be doing in the same venue as the Starling city vigilante?

He had not the slightest idea.

The smell of her was sweet, intoxicating, and he felt his control slipping as he imagined his calloused hands roaming every inch of her contrastingly dainty body- hearing her say she wanted him, no matter his broken spirit, sky blue eyes smiling in satisfaction from under him...

He really was the worst kind of bastard.

Imagining his unsullied wife as a flagrant seductress that would confess her undying love while he took her virtue. The reasons for his earlier anguish rushed through his mind, his urgency suddenly unbarred.

An unexplainable force pulled him towards the mysterious woman, a sort of magnetism that had lacked with the skillful courtesans he had danced with at that damn ball. Even as a particularly bold harlot rubbed up flush against him, whispering her various qualifications in his ear, did he feel absolutely nothing. Nothing inspired his male admiration like even the slightest glimpse of his beautifully proper wife.

Nothing warmed his heart or set his loins more aflame than her chatty tangents and the flushness of her cheeks that followed soon after.

After exiting the ball, panic had shot through him- There was not a single thing that would quench his unrelenting thirst for her... he couldn't even find a whore to take care of his needs. He hated the bitter sound that had escaped his lips then, the once philanderer lacking libido for beautiful, _willing_ women, he was sure his former self was shaking his head in plenary disgust.

And all because of a babbling astute of a woman.

He was sure he would burn in his desire, his own personal hell- as he should.

Inflamed beyond reason, Oliver encased the woman's slim waist in his hot palms. His hold broadened as his fingers splayed on the soft surface of her close-fitting bodice. He turned her to face him, and trying to remain quiet, pulled her towards him. The Nymph's eyes widened and for a humiliating second he thought she, too, would reject his advances.

But she did not, with a silent sigh her eyes closed, her lips parting in seeking admission. He tested the plump edge of her luscious lips with the pad of his thumb, the need to taste the sweetness of those lips burned hot through his blood...but he would not. He pledged to keep at least that act sacred to his marriage, he would pour his soul, his light and love into the few chaste kisses with Felicity in hopes his love would somehow reach into her heart.

Even as self-loathing churned deep in his gut, he knew there was no turning back. His demons had been stirred and they clamored for satisfaction.

A satisfaction he had stupidly thought he could subdue with a night of vigilantism. Even mid pursuit her melodious voice, her bright blue eyes followed him, making his entire being ache for her- greedily seeking all she could give him, all he should not want.

So he brawled harder, ran faster, seized more criminals, in a desperate attempt to deserve her, only knowing he was less worthy with each day that passed- with each life he took.

He knew him bedding a harlot was not what John had in mind when he sent the address of the warehouse to the dock. If his memory served him, he had mentioned a series of peculiar murders in coast city, he suspected that whoever was responsible would congregate in the outskirts of town.

Another round of hatred rolled through him, he had not twenty minutes in the blasted warehouse and he was already putting his own desires above the mission, above John Diggle's commitment to him. Dressed in his forest green cloak, hood in place, pigment marring his eyes, his essence vibrated with must.

He was a selfish Lord.

Deep within the spells of passion, he barely noticed the silence that had fallen throughout the building- whoever had occupied the area was gone. Oliver's eyes roamed over the inconspicuous doxy in his arms, she seemed wantonly oblivious to anything, her eyes half-closed, her breasts rising and falling at a steady pace.

Lust spiked through his blood.

With a swift movement, he jerked her into his arms and hastily pressed her against the nearest wall. His lips latched onto the soft, creamy skin of her neck, she smelled of sweet lavender as his nose grazed the skin exposed above her neckline.

She was spread out like a banquet and he had never felt more like a famished castaway in his life. Oliver's hand snaked down her stocking-clad leg to hitch it tightly around his waist, his hand travelled over her thigh and he groaned to find her wearing no undergarments save a thin chemise. Her sighs of satisfaction poured over him, a healing balm on his chafed soul.

_Forgive me, my love_

* * *

Seated in the blue and green drawing-room, Felicity sipped her tea and avoided Lady Thea Queen's eyes.

She feared the all too knowing look that would surely light up the intelligent emerald eyes of her ingenious sister-in-law.

She has not stopped blushing since last night, a state of pinkness that her astute sister would, no doubt, observe. To be quite honest, she was fairly burning to share last nights happenings with Thea, something she knew was not a particularly popular subject in polite company, let alone Oliver's sister. How would one discuss her situation? over biscuits and tea?

Surely not.

Her cup rattled as she moved to place it on the deep brown table. From the distance, a clock sounded as it struck eight, despite the lack of sleep, her insides burned with an awakened energy.

Felicity looked up to meet Thea's olive eyes, her friends beauty never failed to surprise her. Her dark brown locks fell loosely around her shoulders framing an elegantly round face. She was quite stunning- no wonder half the unattached men were skirmishing for her attention. She remembered meeting her shortly before the wedding and marveling at how much she looked like Oliver- the same gleam in their eyes,the same broad smile- though Oliver's very few and far in-between.

Staring down at her steaming cup, her eyes softened in gentle heartache- she did not know what to feel, she would not deny the feeling of hurt that washed over her first- Oliver had not known who she was, he had made love to a complete stranger-

and she did not understand the feelings that had followed, her skin burned where his hands had touched- hot as though his caresses had branded themselves into her flesh- she did not understand the need that pooled deep in her belly-

No, she did not. But it was ever present, insistent- overpowering.

"Felicity, as fine as that china is, I am quite sure it is not as fascinating as you would have me believe staring at it so intently- tell me, what troubles you?"

Felicity's eyes rose to study her friend- despite the early hour, no shadows undervalued the vividness of Thea's gaze, her skin glowed though surely not of a full nights rest- Thea had been the one to deliver Felicity to discover her husbands whereabouts intent on delivering her oblivious brother into his wife's arms.

"I do not know where to begin... it has been an interesting night to say the least"

"Is Ollie at home this morning?" Thea inquired

"No. He...he did not come home last evening" Felicity took a gulp of her sweltering tea

"Excellent. We wish naught my darling brother to interrupt our talk- I suggest, then, that you start where my driver left you off- at the warehouse"

Felicity bit back a smile, despite the years she had on Thea- the girl was intelligent, and knew much more about these matters than Felicity could ever attain from the scholarly books she spent her nights reading.

Truth be told, Thea had suffered a terrible amount for her young age, she knew little about the Queen family save what she could pice together from various overheard conversations but she knew about the awful accident and she knew that Thea was all Oliver had left.

Her mother and father had not stopped to inquire much about Oliver and his family upon accepting his proposal. Her father-only thinking of the various people he owed money to- saw only his fortune. Her mother- Taking in count her severe lack of grace and doubtlessly thinking she would remained unmarried otherwise- saw only the pleasure of having her daughter married off.

It all had no matter to her, the very moment her eyes had met with a pair of stormy blue ones, she knew it was to be him- solely him. Not his birth, his profession, anything he could have suffered would change the surge of love she had developed for him throughout their time together- before that cool and uncaring facade had been put into place

Though she had not imagined a situation such as this-hounding after a husband who remained indifferent to her- she would not beg him, no, she had decided this, all she had wanted was a chance- an explanation at the very least.

Thea had always been clever, the friend to turn to in a time of need. The day before, in a fit of desperation Felicity had found herself unable to stop the confession about the state of her marriage and the recovered address from spilling from her lips.

Thea's strategic plan had been nothing short of genius.

"Your natural talent for scheming is bordering on frightening, Thea"

"Oh hush, I got you to the ghoulish building, did I not?" curiosity gleamed in the younger Queen's green eyes

"Did all go as planned?"

"Yes, your driver deposited me to the building and I was able to find a way in"

Thea nodded, urging her to continue. When she did not Thea's hands shot up

"And? were you able to find Oliver?- did you confront him with your demands of an explanation?"

"Yes. He...I think he.." Heat crept up her neck to color her cheeks. She took a deep breath and the damn broke- her words rushing out like a gush of hefty water

"Well I think he thought I was some sort of harlot- by virtue of my displaying costume. Not that I don't appreciate the effort for disguise...-

It was quite evidently very effective" she muttered recalling the gown options Thea had provided for her

"I-I was also forced to remove my undergarments so that might of consolidated the notion of my profession and we ended up hiding behind some sort of staircase and well he... and I.. well we.."

Her cheeks burned again as she saw Thea's eyes widen at the implication of her words.

"Breathe Felicity" Thea moved her hand to rest on top of Felicity's in a calming gesture. Once she recovered from her word regurgitation Thea sat back with a smug expression

"In risk of hearing unnecessary details...the event, was it enjoyable?" Felicity looked at Thea's laughing eyes and felt the tension loosen in her chest

"Oh, very much so!"

There, she'd said it. She had coupled with her husband and it had been quite exhilarating. Nothing like the tedious duty her mom had described, though she had wished it had been under different circumstances.

"As it should be, I really don't understand why love matches are so few throughout society, It seems loveless marriages would become quite unbearable. When I marry- it shall be for love, like you and Oliver"

Felicity's lips curved into a slight frown, her brows knitting together in thought

"I am not quite sure ours is a love match. At least, not on his part."

The reality of last nights happenings deflated some of her excitement

"Did you not say your reunion was quite enjoyable?"

her skin tingled as she recalled the hunger in Oliver's gaze, how his chest vibrated with each touch...

"He did not know it was me"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Last night, Oliver did not know it was me. It was dark, and I did not remove my mask... you saw the amount of pigments I was wearing, even I did not recognize myself!"

"But why? The disguise was for anyone who saw you on the street, Not for your husband!"

Thea's expression was incredulous. Felicity scrambled to explain something she herself could not interpret. Last night.. she had been a different woman- one that would entice a man...that could keep up with her husband and respond with wants of her own- not the lady with perfectly proper manners that Oliver had always remarked on.

A wave of shame and horror had crashed over her as the words of his marriage proposal echoed in her thoughts

_While I am undeserving of your pure and virtuous nature, I do praise it above all. I will strive to be a worthy husband, one that hopefully one day will earn the love of such and intelligent and lovely lady as yourself, if you will have me._

Surely he did not have this in mind with his proposal.

"I was afraid to reveal myself, you see after it was over, he got up and dressed like nothing had happened..."

"Well, if he thought you a whore," Thea reasoned

"how else would he treat you?"

And there indeed was the problem. She, the Marchioness of the Queen estate had played the part of a courtesan so convincingly that even her own husband had believed her.

What had she gotten herself into?

Would Oliver ever grow to lover her knowing she had deceived him so?

"hmm" Thea's expression was one of deep thought as Felicity despaired over her predicament

"Don't you worry my dear Felicity, I have a plan"

Felicity's eyes met Thea's, shining with mirth and cunning

"And for the record, that gown is the hight of fashion in paris, leave it to my brother to confuse it for harlot's attire!" she shook her head and began to explain her brilliant proposal, one she hoped would reunite the two people she was sure were meant for each-other.


	5. Memories and Regret

**Hi ! So some people were disappointed in the turnout of the plot and if that is the case, i'm really sorry! it sucks as a writer to know that you caused some disappointment, but I really appreciate the time you took to review and read this story, I hope you will read my future works and review them as honestly as you did this one! As for what happened, this story's plot is loosely based on a story I read ages ago that I thought I could write a dynamic story for this pairing- which I love. I didn't want to write a cookie cutter story, where no one makes mistakes, I really wanted to explore Oliver's demons and turmoil. Oliver is a severely flawed human being, as can be seen on the show but he is also a good person which I had hoped to develop. Side note- many men in this era had mistresses/courtesans, I choose this plot also based on that characteristic of this era! **

**ANW I'm not sure if I will be continuing this specific story but I really wanted to post this chapter soon, not necessarily to defend Oliver, but to give a little sense as to where I was taking it. **

**Anyways sorry for the long note! Thanks !**

**** Don't own Arrow****

* * *

_The humid air cut his desperate features harshly,_

_shriveled__ leaves and branches collapsing under the weight of his hurried foot falls. The tree's offshoots scraped at the surface of his bare torso- mocking and trying as he sprinted by._

_His breaths came out in brisk puffs, gleaming sweat coating his skin at the effort. _

_He needed to run_

_They were close... **he** was close_

_Faster...Faster...he needed to run Faster!_

Oliver awoke startled to the sounds of muffled shouting, followed by various crashes that vibrated through the frame of the building. Lively curses issued from the floor below and he recalled the new shipment of grain that had arrived yesterday. A bead of sweat ran down his neck making him shiver, his breathing wildly uncontrolled

_It was only a dream _

Yesterdays events surged through his mind followed by a outpour of intolerable guilt. His sleep chased away by a mixture of regret and the visions that haunted his thoughts, he lifted his panic-stricken frame from the lumpy couch in his office to stand by the open window. Gradually, he became aware of the world- the lulling splash of the tides, the musky aquatic perfume of the river. He breathed in the gentle breeze in attempt to calm his weakness, taking comfort in the damp salt air that had been home for what had felt like a horrific eternity.

He felt a pull to the water's energy- it could be majestic, yes, but infernal as well.

For five years he'd been trapped by it, inescapable tides of darkness that ate away at his wilting resolve.

Everything had changed a great deal in five years, the thriving Queen estate, his effortless life- he had returned to find little left but a frightened Thea. He had come back- broken beyond repair- still grieving his fathers death and soon after-his mothers disappearance.

He ignored the looks he got from the people of _polite society_ who before, bowed to the feet of his fathers great power and wealth-and now, looked down upon him with disdain. Oliver paid them no mind- it was Thea who he distressed over, he could only imagine the disagreeable women she must encounter, and despite the semblance of strength she forged, he knew each jab harmed her spirit. Her backbone was durable, he knew this, for she usually set him in his place, but there was only so much a young lady could take.

So he worked, he worked to repair the company that was left in shambles, he worked to give Thea a proper life- working became his lifeblood.

The snickers faded into the distance as the fruits of his labor became evident. More than money and success was his crusade to rid the city of corruption, a malfeasance brought upon by his own father in his endeavor for power- It gave his life a sense of purpose, a distraction from the darkness that plagued him every second of every day.

As he stood looking out at the element that had defined him, he reflected. The more he considered his life- a sense of emptiness began to eat away at his gut, the feeling grew and intensified as fragments of the island began creeping in, images that sent his pulse pounding and dampened his palms.

Looking down, he saw the hands of a man who'd done the unmentionable- but who had also worked hard, hell-bent on proving he was not his father and at the same time trying to understand why he had done it, why he had placed the burden of his mistakes on the shoulders of his young son prior to taking his own life and in consequence leaving a gaping hole in his family.

_He did it to save you, so you would survive_

His knuckles bore scars of his struggle for survival. Beneath the thickened skin lay a deeper malformation: the undisclosed cuts sustained by an unsound boy- because he had only been a boy- who cowered in fear of the sounds of misery that echoed through the deadly island that he knew would one day befall from his own lips. Fear of the merciless man who hunted him day and night.

With a harsh breath, Oliver shut the door to his thoughts. His hands gripped the edge of his desk

_Slade is dead_

He repeated the words until the beating of his heart slowed, until he could remember what he was now-

no longer a helpless castaway, but a formidable man who had taken his experience and turned it into a drive to restore his city.

A strong tide of anguished rage tore through him. Yes he was a man- but what kind of man?

One who harbored despicable secrets. One who's hands were tainted, who's bestial nature dictated his actions.

Bloody hell, last night he coupled with a harlot- and to make matters more damnable he had pretended it was his wife.

He pictured his real wife with her shy smile and warm eyes, and his stomach churned with the deepest self-disgust imaginable. Of no matter was the fact that Felicity did not love him- the fracture her polite indifference left in his heart was also of amassed inconsequence - Felicity did not deserve betrayal.

The guidance and tenderness she offered Thea consolidated the kindness he had seen in her bottomless blue eyes that first time-his love grew and grew with every word, every smile, every look... A feeling so different, so new than anything he had ever experienced- so damn strong it rattled his bones.

He snorted, an awful bitter sound that further twisted his gut. His shameless being thinking about love? No, he shouldn't feel something so beautiful- not after having failed his gracious wife.

"Forgive me" he whispered as he hung his head in despair, fully knowing she shouldn't- he wasn't worth any distress

he should have never married her, he should not have fooled himself into thinking he would grow to deserve her

the brutal truth hit him too late- he would never uphold a stable bond with any woman, his broken soul would not allow it.

Even Thea, he knew, deserved a better protector- someone with warm eyes to offer her affection and advice, Someone who's being wasn't clouded with unmentionable scars.

His heart broke and his determination hardened

He needed too get Felicity as far away from him as possible, she deserved more than a broken man.

So much more.


End file.
